The Busful of Misfit SHIELD Agents
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: May has the Bus parked in Norway in December, Fitz-Simmons are arguing over cacao beans, and Skye goes into the pine forest with Grant and an axe and loop of rope: not to kill people, but to fetch themselves a Christmas tree.


_**Soli Deo gloria**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Marvel: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D or any of the Christmas special references. Please excuse the unbelievably cheesy title.  
**

**Just some cute Skyeward fluff in the spirit of the season. :)**

The Bus was set to land on a wide landing pad outside a large city in Norway. Despite the chill of the December weather and the swirling, flying ice of a normal storm, May was easily able to land the aircraft. She smoothly put on the brakes, checking switches and pulling levers, and pushed a button or two to activate warm spurts of air that sprayed across the entire windshield, giving her a clearer view of the snow before her.

"Nice job, May," Coulson said, from his spot in the co-pilot's seat.

"Is this mission entirely necessary, sir?" May asked, putting a final push on the brakes. She turned to Coulson with a dead set-glare.

"Probably could have had it done in some place other than Norway. But I like the view of the mountains. Makes you feel small in a world that's already too tiny," Coulson said calmly.

"Why would you want that?" May asked.

"Keeps things in perspective," Coulson said. "And is this mission entirely necessary? I don't know. But it keeps moral up. We're only human. We can't keep going like this; variety keeps them busy and cheerful."

"Like children," May said, almost as a question.

"If you want to think that, sure, May," Coulson said. He looked entirely too pleased with himself about this entire plan; May, as usual, looked unamused.

Just then Skye stuck her head through the door leading into the cockpit. She was wearing a faux-fur-lined waterproof dark jacket, and her hands were covered in dark red gloves. "Hey, can we exit now? Or is it too icy?"

"I can open the door. Just be careful not to slip," May said.

"'Kay, cool." Skye made to leave, but then she stuck her head back out. "Fitz-Simmons say it's too cold for them, so Ward and I will go adventuring and leave them to their heated lab and cocoa."

"They've made cocoa?" Coulson wondered.

"They're planning to. At the moment they're arguing over which cacao bean from where has the best quality out of all the other cacao beans on Earth or whatever." Skye shrugged. "But I saw marshmallows."

"I'm down for marshmallows," Coulson said, standing up. "Coming, May?"

"Once I open the door," May said calmly, but also firmly, as if she were verbally shoving Skye out the door so she could escape the cockpit and no longer have to be pilot for a bit.

"Oh. Yeah. Right. Got it," Skye said quickly. She disappeared, slamming the door behind her, and ran through the length of the Bus, passing the kitchen, where Simmons had her arms folded and lips pursed and Fitz was adamantly defending Madagascar cacao beans. She ignored the two and headed to the rear of the Bus. She pressed a button and entered, tugging on a scarf from her shoulder and finding Grant looking as surly as usual as he pulled on dark leather gloves. He pretty much wore nothing but black waterproof clothing and a loop of rope around his thick shoulder as he looked with grim appraisal at the snow-white winter that the now lowered door was displaying.

"This is gonna be fun, huh?" Skye said cheerfully as she came to his side.

"This is going to be fast. I want to get in and get out fairly quickly," Grant said shortly.

"What? This isn't a typical mission. We don't have a time limit that tells us if we don't get it done by this particular time we'll get blown up," Skye said cheekily.

"You're being optimistic," Grant said.

"I always am. I'm dependable in that way," Skye said. Grant turned away and picked up an axe. She tilted her head and said, "Hey, cheer up, big guy. You're acting like we're heading off to a cliff to jump off. Come on. We're picking out a Christmas tree."

"Did Coulson stop and think about how much easier this would be if we simply went to the local tool supply store and picked up one?" Granted asked, shouldering the axe.

"Ah. Too easy. Besides, when you have a giant aircraft at your disposal, you kinda have to use it to get the best Christmas tree in the history of ever," Skye said, following her S.O. as they started their trek down the ramp into the forest.

"This is a top-class transportation plane meant to transfer agents to their missions, not a soccer mom's van," Grant pointed out. He had to tilt his head just to see Skye's face all at once.

She raised an eyebrow, stalling for time while she took the moment to take in his face. It was a solid, steady face, and she forced herself to look away. She gave him a cocky shrug, just to confuse him. They kept walking and she said, "This is a mission, Agent Ward."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Don't start."

"Does this have an agenda?"

"Yes."

"A goal?"

"Obstacles?"

"I have an axe. Yes."

"An enemy?"

"The snow isn't an enemy. It's a deterrent."

"I'm on a roll. Don't knock me off it."

Grant chuckled.

Skye smiled at this acknowledgement and continued, "Doesn't that sound like a mission?"

"Your definition is looser than mine," Grant said, giving her the benefit of the doubt. Their boots met the snow and crunched against it. They slipped off the ramp of the Bus and looked ahead to the forest of pine trees that laid across the ground before them. The air smelled highly of Christmas trees, reminiscent for the two of them.

"I call it a mission. Besides, it's gonna be hard getting through this tree lot," Skye said, cocking her head and raising an eyebrow and succeeding in looking terribly sassy.

Grant caught her face and raised her an eyebrow before he set his firm step against the snow and started to head to the trees.

Skye hurried after him, making sloppy noises against the snow. She would be horrible if they had a mission in Siberia. She didn't care much at the moment, though, Grant was some. But he decided not to chastise her at the moment for it. She seemed, for once, generally carefree and cheerful. She was more often that than not, mostly to add a layer of lightness to their tension filled job, but this seemed . . . really genuine.

"Ever gone fishing for your own Christmas tree, Ward?" Skye asked cheerfully, pink in her cheeks and adrenaline in her bones. She bounced on the tips of her toes and looked around the large lot of trees, all brimming with pine needles and tall branches, tall peaks and tiny animals living in their nooks and crannies.

"I tend to stay away from Christmas trees," Grant said. His eyes were looking around expectantly for one that would fit the bill granted by Coulson so he could kill the thing and drag it back into the Bus so he could leave it alone and never touch it again.

"And yet you enter a field covered with them. Typical," Skye said. Grant started walking away without warning and Skye chased after him. "What, did some Christmas tree traumatize you when you were a kid? Some rabid squirrel jump out of its branches and scare the crap out of you?"

"Something less dramatic," Grant said, and he started weaving around a bunch of tall trees. The air around the two smelled sharply of Christmas, pine and chill; it was bitter cold. The sun was already fading fast in the distance, casting a white-orange-yellowish hue over the horizon. It was a moment to think about when you could no longer see any beauty but only evil spots of dark shadow in the world. That beautiful sunset was gorgeous and memorable.

"Wait, you're actually serious? There was something that happened to you when you were a kid that traumatized you and ruined Christmas?" Skye asked, having to hurry to keep his pace.

Grant spent several seconds wondering what exactly he was going to retort back at her. But then he realized he didn't want to retort back at her. He was tired of retaliating when she was almost ignorant to the fact that she crossed lines, passed over boundaries she wasn't even aware of. But she also wasn't. In a way, she was the only one who could possibly know what he knew about himself. Their childhoods were strange parallels in certain ways: they sucked in ways that left a lasting impression on them. But he still didn't know if his abuse from his brother was worse than her absence of a real family. He then said in a gentler, calmer, hopefully final, tone, "Many things happened, Skye, when I was growing up. But Christmas was never one of the favorite memories."

"What were your Christmases like, then?" Skye asked warily, pushing a branch out of the way before it scratched her face. "Or, you know, if you'd rather not say, we can talk about pretty much anything else."

"I would prefer that, yes," Grant said, nodding.

"But your Christmases sucked, huh?" Skye said matter-of-factly.

Grant stopped and stared at her for a moment. "What do you think?"

"Yeah. I think so. Because mine kinda sucked too. Loveless Christmases tend to do that," Skye said. Her voice was not cheerful anymore; it had taken on that quiet, almost disconnected voice she used for things that were hard to swallow, to think of and not get hurt by. She hurried on and said, "What kind of tree are we looking for?"

Grant shrugged. "I don't know. Ask Fitz-Simmons if you want a family and genus. I just want a tree for Coulson," he said.

Skye caught his eye and said, "Getting a Christmas tree was my idea."

"YOUR idea?" Grant said, stopping in his tracks and sounding surprised, but not entirely. This plan reeked of Skye, though, didn't it? And he hadn't noticed this before. He thought he would have gotten better at discerning which were her plans and which just weren't.

"Yeah. I wanted to make something that makes bad memories something that can make good memories. I figure there was never enough room in my van for a real Christmas tree, and I decided that maybe one this year can be a good thing. I don't know. But I wanted a Christmas tree." She shrugged. "That's not a bad thing to want."

"No. I guess not," Grant said. He looked around the wide space, taking in the vastness of the forest, and he said, "Take your pick."

"What? I thought you were going to slug one home to drop at Coulson's feet," Skye said seriously.

"It's your Christmas tree. It's your pick," Grant said. He offered her a slip of a smile, making her turn to the forest and take in the trees. Then she inhaled deeply and walked down, her eyes going up and down in inspection. They were all a little taller than her, but some towered as over fifteen feet tall. But then there was one that she caught the sight of that made her tilt her head and hurry over to.

It was tall and imperfect. It tilted and had an odd way about it, like it had too many branches on one side and not enough on the other. It had a couple of dead branches and it dropped some needles here and there. And Skye took a few seconds to look at it before saying, "This. Yes. This one."

Granted examined the plant and then raised an eyebrow. "Is this supposed to be like a moment from A Charlie Brown Christmas?" he asked.

"What? No. Well, maybe. A little." Skye sighed and rolled her eyes. But she circled the tree, her arms folded over her chest, and a soft smile appeared on her face. Grant couldn't take his eyes from her face as she turned to him and said, "It's misshapen and imperfect and odd and really, really weird. It would fit right in, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah," Grant said. He didn't say much else to add to that, but somehow Skye knew he knew. She stayed back and decided not to get in the way as he took off his jacket, showing the strict muscles beneath his shirt, and started to hack at the tree with the axe. She had forgotten to grab one herself, or else she'd be there hacking away at it not knowing what the heck she was supposed to do and probably endangering Grant's life by highering the risk of his head rolling off in a bloody swipe. So she instead stuck in the back, her arms folded over her chest, because it was below freezing and snowing and she was sure to catch some disease that Fitz-Simmons were going to have the time of their lives dissecting. So she was glad when the tree finally fell down with an almighty crash. She raised her fists and cheered.

"What?" Grant said. He was sweating slightly on the neck, but he felt somewhat pleased that she took such victory in this. "I just felled a tree."

"Yeah, but you prevailed. You killed it for holiday traditions." Skye said this like it was obvious. She grinned and said, "Come on, woodcutter. Let's drag this back to the Bus and see if May can help us find some Christmas ornaments."

"There aren't going to be any Christmas ornaments in the Bus," Grant pointed out.

"We've got enough candles and stuff. Me, I'd rather go kooky, riding on garish, but popcorn and cranberries will be better. Let's do this real, real traditional, take a good look at it, and figure if we're gonna do the same thing next year," Skye explained plainly as Grant bound the tree in the rope that he had had on his shoulder.

He straightened and asked, "Next year?"

"Yeah," Skye said. "This is going to be a tradition for each year, as long as we go on like this. We get a Christmas tree and we argue over the ornament arrangement and Coulson listens, amused, and doesn't make us shut up. May will get annoyed and compare us to the Island of Misfit Toys and Fitz-Simmons can argue over cocoa and add huge marshmallows to the mugs and I'll play 1970s' puppet music and we'll all learn the Rudolph the Reindeer song. I hear it was a success at the Christmas party at Stark Tower. Not that I should know that, but whatever." Skye shrugged, completely innocent. "And what the hell, we'll make up for our childhoods. We'll make Christmas what we want it to be. And that isn't a bad thing, Grant. Got it?" She caught his eye and looked straight into him. She knew then that he was hesitant on the idea. He . . . was scared that Christmas couldn't be saved. But so what if she spent every Christmas in a foster family's house or that he spent it with the suckiest brother in the entire universe? What did it matter?

All right, it did matter. She knew it mattered a lot, but she didn't want to think about it. She wanted to think of Christmas as a good thing, a beautiful holiday, warm and loving and comforting and heartwarming. She hoped that he wanted the same thing.

Grant held the tree next to him, and it even towered over him. It dwarfed Skye. "Do you think we can find a star for the top?" he asked softly.

Skye gave him a soft smile. It was warm. She was entirely warm. "The brightest one we can find. We could maybe even get one from outer space, but then we'd burn up before we can grab it."

"We can try, though," Grant asked.

"Reaching for the stars literally?" Skye asked.

"I'm being optimistic," he said.

Skye laughed. "That's the Christmas spirit, Agent Ward."

The sun was just disappearing from a horizon soft and beautiful as the two Agents, so tiny in the large, vast forest, headed through the snow back to their home.

**Skyeward wins; they're so lovely.**

**Thanks for reading! God bless you! Merry (early!) Christmas  
**


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